STILL MORE SHORT POEMS
Bifocals, having never found love,
saw my sixth-grade face and said
get me all over that.
Listen! My heart
has gone creeping up
into my ear again.
May you sip your rosewater tea
at seventy five and read every blurred name
scrawled into your ankles and arms.
Jesus came back
for some peanut butter
not thinking you’d notice.
Cowlick on my right temple,
postal clerk says I can hold my temper.